All The Difference In One Word
by The lunatic who cares
Summary: OneShot V. mild slash. Bruce did everything in steps, thinking only of what came next, blocking out everything else, because he knew his grief would consume him if he let it. Everyone died in his world and Bruce had learnt long ago how to bury the pain.


**Title:** All The Difference In One Word  
**Disclaimer:** The Justice League, Bruce Wayne, Wally West, aren't mine, mores the pity...  
**Notes:** Beta-d by xRae Asakurax. I'm on a Batman kick at the moment, which I'm blaming on Jazyrha, but this has been kicking around in my head for some time. This one-shot wanted to be Queen of Angst Central Station...

Everyone said their goodbyes in private and Bruce was last. Clark laid a hand on his shoulder as he left, face betraying his own grief but he didn't say anything, for which Bruce was grateful. He stepped inside the Med Bay, closing the door behind him, and forced himself to walk over to the lone occupant on one of the beds. As he moved closer his mind played over the events which had led them to this place.

It had started with an explosion at a military science testing facility but the government had refused the Justice League's help to start with, until they realised they couldn't control it and there was going to be a catastrophic loss of life. The seven members of the League had managed to pull everyone out of the badly damaged area but one experimental power core was going critical and there was nothing they could do to save it. They didn't have enough time to get it into space and John couldn't hold the explosion, it would be too powerful for him to contain, so someone had to go into its heart and dismantle the machine powering the unstable elements.

That was when they discovered that the radiation that the machine was producing was deadly to everyone there, or at least made them lose consciousness faster than the time it would take them to dismantle the structure. Wally had frowned at Bruce at about that time, asking exactly what needed doing and Bruce had quickly, but absently, explained as he'd run a multitude of ideas through his mind. That was when Wally had smiled brightly, clapping Bruce on the shoulder briefly, as he'd said, "Always knew I'd go out this way." Then he'd gone into the heart of the core, using his speed to beat the effects of the radiation and successfully stopping the core from going into overload and blowing.

Clark had dived into the core after it became apparent Wally had succeeded but wasn't coming back out again. He'd been barely conscious, skin blistered and burned, breathing horribly wet and bubbly when Clark had brought him out and even then, Bruce had known that they would lose him. The world was that unfair.

Now Wally was lying scarily still on that bed, sheet covering most of him but propped up so it wouldn't touch him after they had cut away the uniform that had melted to his skin. It had even left the Flash symbol burnt into his chest. Several drips were connected up to him and a breathing mask was in place over his nose and mouth. A heart rate monitor showed the extremely low blood pressure as Wally's heart clung to life weakly. It still made Bruce feel sick to see that vibrant shock of red hair falling out, covering the pillow and the very life that normally shone from the young man's body fading before his eyes. He sat down stiffly in the chair someone had put beside the bed and was lost.

Wally must have heard him because his eyes fluttered open and he gave Bruce a weak grin. "Hey Bats." Bruce swallowed, wondering how his strength had deserted him, but Wally didn't seem to mind. "Wanted to ask you to do something for me."

"You shouldn't talk," Bruce shook his head.

"And save my strength for what?" Wally asked, voice cracking and wheezing. Bruce bowed his head, defeated by that logic. "Take the cowl off… please?"

Lifting his head he could see Wally pleading with his eyes and there was nothing left in him to resist, so he pulled his back from his face and let his blue eyes meet green, making Wally smile slightly again. "What did you want to ask me?"

"Write a letter for me." Wally twitched his fingers on the covers. "I can't."

Bruce nodded. That was a request he could easily grant. He rose from his chair and quickly searched out a pen and paper before returning to the bedside and assuming a position, ready to take down Wally's words. There was a pause as Wally shut his eyes, suddenly fighting off a wave of pain and Bruce heard the click as Wally depressed the morphine trigger to administer himself some more painkillers.

"Leave me a space at the beginning," the red head instructed. "I want to write the name."

The dark haired man shifted his hand down the page a little and slowly began writing as Wally spoke. The young hero struggled, not because he didn't know what to say, but because his body was failing him faster with each passing moment. There were times he didn't talk for minutes on end as he faded from consciousness or was struggled for breath. Bruce silently panicked his way through those times, fearing to be alone with Wally when he finally lost his battle for life.

After a bad bout of sickness that came with radiation poisoning Wally came back to and scrabbled his fingers against the bed until Bruce understood. He hesitantly took the hot hand in his and felt Wally squeeze it as tightly as he could, clearly scared though he never showed it once. Bruce never stopped writing, though his vision blurred from time to time.

Despite all that, the hardest thing was listening to Wally talk. It was what he was saying that tore Bruce's heart to pieces and made him feel like an intruder into a personal, private moment he should never have seen. Wally was spilling his heart out, telling the person who would read this letter that he loved them, that he was sorry he hadn't said it before. It was beautiful, Bruce wasn't aware that Wally was so eloquent. He didn't joke around as he spoke, for once. Wally's words were straight to the point, straight from the heart.

The letter wasn't that long, but with his condition deteriorating it seemed to take hours. Bruce often found himself staring at the hand in his. The back of it was covered in splotches of discoloured skin, Purpura his brain supplied automatically, another symptom of the radiation poisoning. Another sign of Wally being taken away from them by people who had too much pride. If they had just let the League help right at the beginning, Wally wouldn't be here, dictating his last letter to someone he should have told in real life that he loved.

"Bruce…" Wally's voice was weak now, tired. The dark haired man's head shot up at the use of his real name. "I need to sign it."

"You can't hold the pen…"

"I will." Wally's eyes narrowed and Bruce didn't argue any longer. He freed his hand from Wally's, lifting it slightly so he could slide the paper underneath it and the carefully guided those long fingers to grasp the pen. Wally's hand shook and Bruce had to hold the paper still for him but he signed his name, though a little illegible. He then shifted his hand across the page, aiming for the space at the top and began to painstakingly write a name. Bruce looked away. That was personal.

The pen clattered to the floor when Wally let go of it and then the paper rustled as he tried, vainly, to fold the letter. Bruce took it off him, careful never to see the name Wally had scribed and folded the letter into three equal parts, hiding the writing all away.

"Promise me Bruce…" Wally coughed, blood flecking his lips. "Promise to give it to the right person."

"How will I know who they are?" Bruce asked, worry tainting his ability to find one person in the world.

"You know them… Promise you can find them…"

Bruce swallowed and nodded. "I promise Wally."

Wally smiled, but then suddenly it vanished. His body tensed, those green eyes rolled back in his head and every inch of him began jerking as a seizure took hold of him. Bruce dropped the letter, wanting to grab Wally and hold him down but he knew that could cause more damage and even impede his breathing. He was forced to watch, helpless, and it further drove home the fact that Wally was literally slipping away in front of his eyes. One seizure was followed by another and then heart monitor went crazy. Bruce did grab Wally this time, not wanting to face up to the reality.

"No Wally, please!" Wally's breaths were short, gasping, painful to hear and feel but Bruce held him close, knowing he could do nothing. He would have given the world to turn back time at that moment. "Wally…"

Green eyes opened just once more for Bruce, meeting his, and the older man could see the gratefulness in them. Wally was glad he was here, that he hadn't died alone, and then lids closed down over them forever and the heart monitor's clamouring noise changed into a single tone. There was a moment where Bruce was frozen, Wally held to his chest, limp and still, before the door slid open and the other Justice League Members burst into the room.

"No!" Shayera cried, her grief destroying her warrior's hard façade and John pulled her into his arms, his own pain clear as well. The rest of the team was silent, unsure of what to do and Bruce forced himself to pull together, laying Wally back down on the bed. He turned off the monitor, stooped to pick up the fallen letter from the floor and making it disappear into the depths of his cloak before pulling his cowl back up, face already back to its blank, emotionless mask.

"Bruce…" Clark started, but faltered, unsure, and Bruce turned on his heel, leaving the others to their grief. The journey back home, back to the Batcave was taken in silence where Bruce refused to let himself think. He did everything in steps, thinking only of what came next, blocking out everything else, because he knew his grief would consume him if he let it. Everyone died in his world and Bruce had learnt long ago how to bury the pain.

He sat down in front of the vast computer and pulled out the folded letter, laying it carefully it across the keyboard and gently unfolding it. Bruce had been dreading finding the person, telling them Wally had died, breaking their heart, but there was one thing he had never considered, never braced himself for and it was staring up at him now from the page: His own name.

Alfred stepped from the elevator, heading for Bruce straight away, polite conversation already falling from his lips. "Good evening sir. I was glad to hear on the news your mission at the testing facility was a success." He stopped at Bruce's side, noting the way he was staring at the screen in front of him blankly and then the letter on the keyboard. Alfred didn't read it, he was too well trained to pry into something that could well be private, but something was wrong. "Master Bruce?"

"Define success, Alfred."

"The accomplishment of an aim, a favourable outcome," Alfred replied, already sensing where this conversation was going.

"Then, no, it wasn't a success," Bruce replied, eyes never leaving the screen, though he wasn't reading what was there. He hadn't for over an hour. "The Flash is dead."

"Master Wallace…" Alfred bowed his head for a moment. "I am truly sorry sir. I know you held him in high regard."

"The letter is one I wrote at his request as he was dying. I promised him that I would give it to the person he addressed it to." The dark haired man shut his eyes briefly.

The butler took that as permission to read the letter, but instinct warned him not to touch it. There was something about the way Bruce had laid his hands around it, almost like he was protecting it. Alfred saw Bruce's name, but it wasn't until he had read the content of letter that he truly understood the pain in the Bruce's heart. There was little he could say. What did you say to someone who had heard a confession of love, yet not known it was addressed to them until it was too late? Bruce had hardened his heart as best he could over his lifetime of pain but Alfred knew he was still a good man, one who craved love as much as any other person did.

"I will call Master Dick."

"Thank you Alfred," Bruce replied, knowing he should speak to Dick. He had been Wally's best friend growing up, and they were still close, but that would be digging deeper into wounds he wasn't ready to tend yet. The older man left silently, back the way he had come, and once he was alone again Bruce found his eyes drifting down to the letter again. Every word was ingrained in his heart, in his photographic memory, but still he found himself reading it again, reliving the words being spoken by Wally every time.

'_Bruce,_

_This letter won't be easy to read and I am sorry that you have to hear this like this, but I couldn't leave without telling you about what I have carried in my heart for years. I love you. I won't explain why, how, when, I know you, you wouldn't believe me, but please believe me this time. I know the others look at me with affection, that I keep you guys steady, but you are the person that keeps me going. I do what I do, every day, for you._

_There is so much more that I'd like to know about you, that I wanted you to know about me, that I wanted to show you, but I do not want you to lament that now. Remember all the good things we did together instead and I'll always be by your side. There will be times that will be hard, I know you put yourself in those situations every day, and I won't be there, but remember this letter, my words, and try to smile, even just a little, for me._

_Thank you for being there for me, in all those important moments in my life, for guiding me when I needed it, for kicking me when I needed it. You were a friend to me, first and always, and I know you don't return my feelings, but I hope you will always remember me fondly. You will always be in my heart._

_Love Wally'_


End file.
